She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. Here she seems to have developed into a brilliant woman with more character and steadfastness than I should ever have given her credit for. And taking the keys, he departed on the errand. .
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